


six days at the bottom of the ocean

by ShirosRedKnight (SweetFanfics)



Series: Sheith Prompt Fills [45]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, Major Injury, Prompt Fill, brain washing, dark!shiro, darker prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 07:12:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8436322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetFanfics/pseuds/ShirosRedKnight
Summary: prompt: Do you also take darker prompts? Like, Sheith where Shiro is recaptured and turns dark (brainwashing, maybe?) and he meets Keith and they fight and Shiro tries to convince Keith that he never loved him, generally being rather cruel, while Keith tries to get Shiro back to the way he was before? If either of them succeeds is totally up to you~





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> mutter mumbles from the floor how this prompt is too close to BAngel/BAngelus man thats just not fair

He raises his head at the sound of footsteps approaching his cell. Although calling it a ‘cell’ would be a disservice. It’s larger than his quarters back on the Galran ship he’s stationed on. But a cell it still is because its where he’s being kept captive.

A feminine voice calls out, “Keith…”

Ah. So they’d sent the princess to talk sense into the red paladin. Their voices are pitched too low for him to understand what they’re talking about but he can make an educated guess. She is probably echoing the other paladin’s words - It’s impossible to turn around Galran brain washing. Maybe it’s time to let him go. Figure out how to deal with him.

“No,” the red paladin says, loud and firm enough for the single word to slip through the metal door. “I’m not giving up.”

What a stubborn man. 

Where does his hope come from? 

Why does he continue to cling onto the memory of a man who is no long alive?

The door slides open, surrounding the red paladin in an pale halo that dissipates as he taps the panel to turn the room lights on. The paladin’s frown fades away once he catches sight of him sitting across from him.

As the days past, the paladin closes the door behind him. Steps deeper into the room. Puts down the food tray in his hands a foot away from him. And moves to sit by the door.

He pulls the tray closer and digs into the green goop. Initially he’d sneered at the ‘food’ but it’s edible and free of poisons. He also needs to keep his strength up if he’s going to escape this ship.

“You still don’t remember anything?” the paladin asks.

He ignores the question, shoveling more of the goop into his mouth. Strange how familiar it tastes. He’s sure he hasn’t eaten anything like it back on the ship.

And yet…

An item skitters along the metal floor, clanging to a halt as it hits his Galra arm. It’s a hunk of uncarved rock half the size of his fist. Translucent. Pale aqua in color. 

It reminds him of the ocean.

…

What’s an ocean?

“That was a gift from the Balmerans,” the paladin is saying. “They gave each of us a crystal as thanks for saving them.”

He carefully puts the crystal back down on the floor and flicks it back towards the paladin. The paladin swipes it up and tucks it away in his jacket with a tiny, triumphant smirk.

“You remembered something.”

He ignores the statement, finishing off the rest of his goop before chugging down the glass of water. 

“You shouldn’t fight it,” the paladin’s voice is soft now. He looks up into the paladin’s steady gaze and feels the hair at the back of his neck stand up at a half-memory.

Why does he feels like he’s been on the receiving end of that understanding, loving gaze so many times before?

“Don’t fight your memories Shiro. The sooner you remember the faster you can break the witch’s spell on you.”

“I’m under no spell,” he says.

The words taste like ashes on his tongue.

Frustration flits across the paladin’s face, hovering at the edges of his voice as he says, “Did you never stop to think how a human like yourself could become a General in Zarkon’s army? You’re nothing like the rest of the Galra! There’s no way you could have been with them your whole life!”

“You’re chasing the memories of a dead man,” he reminds the paladin because that usually is enough to make the man leave.

But not today.

Today the paladin gets to his feet. Crosses the space between them and grabs him by the collar. Drags him up and slams his back against the wall so hard he actually feels the air leave his lungs.

“If you’ve been with them your whole life,” the paladin hisses with anger blazing behind his blue eyes, “then tell me about your childhood. Who raised you? Who was your best friend? What’s your father’s name ‘Champion’?”

He opens his mouth to give his answers and prove to the paladin once and for all that his ‘Shiro’ is dead but…

There are no answers.

Only a darkness that extends forward and sinks its claws into his mind. With a pained groan, he lowers his head. The paladin darts back at the first sound of his distress, hands up defensively. He hears the paladin’s boots squeak against the floor as he falls to his knees, holding his aching skull in his hands.

“Shiro?” the paladin asks.

Shaking his head, he presses his clammy forehead harder against the cool metal and moans out a name that sounds unfamiliar but feels known.

“It’s me. I’m here. I’m here,” the paladin is saying, voice shaking as his trembling hand comes to rest on his back. “I’ve got you.” 

Was that the red paladin’s name? Keith?

The sensation of half-covered fingers sweeping his hair off his forehead is the last thing he processes before the pain of his headache pushes him into darkness.

No.

That wasn’t right.

Before he passes out, he remembers a time where he lay with his head in someone lap’s and they stroked his hair back in the same way. Someone with half-covered, slim fingers. Just like…

Like…

“Keith…”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> unoffangirls said: Meeya I'm dumping another on you: Shiro comes to his senses, realizing he was under mind control, and when he looks down he sees Keith at his feet with a giant slash in his stomach. Keith looks up at him and chokes out his name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> u little angst demon you 8^) also a little inspired by this lovely piece https://twitter.com/magicalboyedwin/status/757105930576269312

_Shiro comes back to reality feels disoriented and light headed. Darkness lingers at the edges of his vision. Did he pass out or is he going to pass out? It could go either way._

_White static rings in his numb ears. Shiro wills his right hand up, presses the cool metal against his ear and rubs._

_It’s wet._

_Why is it wet?_

–

More and more strange memories are encroaching on his mind. Odd words and phrases pop on his tongue without any conscious thought. Strange half-dreams that come to him when the red paladin mentions certain words.

An elderly lady’s wrinkled smile as she hands him a red envelope. Narrowed blue eyes eyeing him with distrust. Flashes of light popping as a grey-bearded man pins a medal to his chest.

But they aren’t _his_  memories. They have to be some trick the paladin’s are using to break him. To make him go against King Zarkon.

He eyes the red paladin stepping through the door, usual tray of food in hand. The paladin appears to be defenseless as always, wearing his casual garb instead of the usual armor.

A fatal mistake.

_–_

_There’s a yell and a muffled roar a split second before the bright flash of a warning shot sparks inches away from his foot._

_Shiro looks up in alarm, wondering why Lance is looking at him with such hostility._

_“Lance.”  
_

_He can hear himself mouthing the words but Shiro can’t hear them._

_He hasn’t gone deaf has he?_

_“Shiro,” Lance’s muffled voice seeps through the static noise. “I don’t want to hurt you but I’ll do it if that’s what it takes.”  
_

_Shaking his head, Shiro asks, “What?” and takes a step forward._

_The gun in Lance’s hand shakes a little before steadying, just like the look in the blue paladin’s eyes. Shiro raises a hand, intending to signal Lance to wait, but instead freezes._

_Why is there blood on his hand?_

–

The red paladin places the food tray down before him and moves back. He drags the tray forward with a hand, wondering he should make his move.

He swallows down the green goo, one spoonful at a time, waiting for the red paladin to say something. To try and make him think he’s someone else besides a general in King Zarkon’s army. 

He almost snorts into his food at these people’s ludicrous attempts. If this is the best they’ve got then they’re doomed.

“Do you remember what your mother used to call you?”

Ah. There it is.

His chance to escape has finally made itself known.

Moronic, he thinks as he feels the red paladin rushing over to check on him. Utterly and completely moronic.

How could this paladin be _so foolish_ to let his guard down around a Galra soldier like himself? How could his first thought, after seeing the Champion gasp and bend over his half, be one of concern instead of suspicion?

No matter. It’s enough that he can exploit the red paladin’s weakness in order to escape.

_–_

_The world sways as he frantically checks himself over for injuries. And tilts sideways when he realizes he’s wearing_ Galra _armor instead of his usual civies_ or _the black paladin armor._

_His frantic gaze flies up, “Why the hell am I wearing this?”_

_Lance’s eyes harden as Shiro takes a step forward, “You might have fooled Keith with that but I’m not buying it.”_

_What?_

_“What the hell are you talking about?” Shiro asks, voice rising with his confusion.  
_

_An almighty metallic bang rings through the hallway. Shiro spins around, crouching into defensive position automatically. And freezes when he sees Pidge aiming her bayard at him._

_“Took you long enough,” Lance grumbles.  
_

_“Had to make sure Hunk and Coran got Keith to the med bay first.”  
_

_And just like that, all of Shiro’s attention focuses on Pidge. “Med bay? What happened? Is Keith hurt?”_

_Pidge’s eyes glint behind her visor, “You tell me. You’re the one that hurt him.”_

_“I’d never!” Shiro takes a step back, darkness finally beginning to recede. In its place comes a mounting sense of dread and terror, and the sense that he’s going to be faced with something he’d rather avoid.  
_

_His eyes drop down to his hand again. And this time, the sight of the drying blood acts like a flint spark falling on a pile of gunpowder._

_And his memory turns to flame_.

–

His right hand burns with a bright light seconds before it’s flying out to pierce the red paladin through the torso. 

It’s pure instinct that makes the small human jump away before the hit can connect. But not enough the tips of his fingers slice through thin cloth and warm flesh.

Blood splashes against the floor before the paladin can gasp. His hands clutch the bleeding gash over his stomach, wide blue eyes staring up at the Galra soldier as he rises up to his full height.

Eyeing the blood and the wound, he can’t imagine the paladin will last too long. If he locks the door and hurries, he should manage to steal an escape pod and be well on his way back to Zarkon before they realize he’s escaped.

But then why are his feet stuck to the floor?

What is this nauseating feeling crawling up his throat?

Why does his head _ache_?

And what is this tearing sensation inside his chest?

“Shiro…” the red paladin groans, reaching a bloodied hand out towards him as he falls.

His body moves before he can stop himself, grabbing the paladin’s hand with his right with the left curls around the human’s warm body. 

And at the same speed, he lets the human drop. Horrified by… by…

Why is he…

What’s…

He slaps his bloodied right hand against his mouth, willing himself not to throw up but will power is useless against a roiling stomach. Green goo and spit joins the pooling blood on the floor with a wet noise.

His head throbs. Burns and hurts and sends a fresh wave of nausea rolling through him.

He needs to get out of here.

Needs to leave…

His feet begin to move, stumbling towards the door. It takes a few fumbling tries but he unlocks the door and tumbles into the hallway.

Looks to the left. To the right. Wonders what’s his best choice before picking left on pure whim.

Every step makes his headache intensify three fold. He’s barely rounded the corner and he can’t even stand anymore. He’s got his shoulder against the wall, panting and sweating cold bullets. 

What’s wrong with him…

Why can’t he...

He blacks out.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anon said: YOU CAN'T END IT THERE, WHAT HAPPENS TO KEITH? DOES THE TEAM BELIEVE SHIRO'S REALLY BACK?? DID SHIRO HAVE A BREAKDOWN IN THE HALL???

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, as demanded~ a continuation....
> 
> (warnings: shiro experiences a panic attack in the start)

He can’t breathe.

His heart beats frantically against his rib cage, every beat making his ear drums throb.

The world is spinning out of control because Keith…. He hurt Keith… He just…

Nausea rises up his gut but there’s nothing there to purge. He dry heaves against the floor, feeling like his insides are being twisted together with a rope made of thorns. 

“I don’t think he’s faking this Lance,” Pidge’s hesitant voice swims through the fog. “I think he’s having an actual panic attack.”

“You saw how he fooled Keith back in his room! This is just like that!”

“Look at these readings! You can’t fake this Lance!”

“Gah! Fine! But keep your bayard out just in case.”

There’s a soft touch against his back that makes Shiro cringe and curl up further into himself. 

“Shiro? You need to try and breathe. Can you do that for me?”

He can’t. 

He _can’t_  breathe because all he can think about is how easy it had been to activate his Galra arm and hurt Keith. Shiro shuddered, rubbing his forehead against the floor remembering how _easily_  his hand had sunk into the soft flesh of Keith’s torso. 

A bead of cold sweat rolls down his nose and onto the floor.

The soft ‘plink’ brings back the memory of the wet splash Keith’s blood had made against the floor.

Shiro feels the world slide off the edge. 

“Shit. Lance, tell Hunk to get here. We’re going to have to get Shiro to the med bay too.”

–

Exhaling slowly, Shiro forces himself to relax and unclench his fists before answering, “Yeah. It’s me. Whatever Hagar did to me, I think it’s over now.”

He’d woken up in the med bay strapped down to a gurney. It’s bringing back from seriously bad memories from the last time…. the _first_ time he’d been captured by the Galra. Those memories coupled with today’s events have Shiro feeling like he got shoved through a meat grinder after losing a fight with an eighteen-wheeler.

Allura and Coran eye him critically, eyes bouncing between the tablet in their hands and Shiro before whispering between themselves.

On the other side of the gurney are Hunk, Lance, and Pidge. Each of them anxiously waiting for the Altean to arrive at a decision.

“Your brain pattern appears to be back to normal,” Coran finally says. “Your vital signs are in a terrible state however.”

“Probably because of the panic attack.”

Nodding at Pidge, Coran turns back to Shiro, “I’d think it’s safe to get these restrains off you.”

The Altean moves to press a button on the underside of the gurney that’ll release the restrains but Shiro shakes his head firmly, “No. Hagar might have …. it’s better to keep me tied up until we’re really sure.”

“You can’t be more sure than checking brain patterns. Here,” Coran pulls up something on his tablet before holding it up for Shiro to see. It’s three sets of lines that remind Shiro of the results of an ECG machine. “That’s your base line. This was what your brain looked like when we brought you back. And this is right now, same as the baseline.”

Shiro doesn’t know what to say to that because… How does he even start to explain how _wrong_ he feels in his own skin? What are the right words to describe the cold terror beating behind his heart that he might go rogue again? In what manner does he go about explaining the numb sensation that’s creeping up his legs at the thought of maybe… _maybe_ Hagar’d put some kind of sleeper agent programming underneath the main one?

A fine tremble shudders through him as Coran ducks down and presses a button. The claps open soundlessly, slick material slithering back into space like a snake darting back into its hovel. 

He takes his time getting up. Mostly because Shiro’s losing sensation in the tips of his fingers and toes. But once he’s upright, he’s shuddering in an inhale and asking the question he’d asked right after waking up, “What about Keith?”

–

As he slips down to the floor, legs across and back against Keith’s cryopod, Hunk asks, “You sure you want to do this?”

Shiro pulls out a pair of handcuffs he’d swiped out of the training room and hands them to Hunk, “Better not take any chances.” He already feels like crawling out of his skin thanks to Coran’s reassurance that he was _fine_  so he didn’t need to be restrained anymore.

‘ _Whatever_ ,’ Shiro couldn’t help but think as he held his wrists out towards Hunk.

With a sigh, Hunk slapped the cuffs on and took a step back. Eyed Keith’s figure fast asleep inside the pod before asking in a softer voice, “Want me to bring you something to eat? Or a pillow?”

The mere concept of potentially eating made his stomach lurch. With a weak smile, Shiro shook his head. “Suit yourself. You know where to find me if you change your mind.”

He watches Hunk go, waiting for the door to hiss shut before exhaling slowly. Shiro feels less like a human being and more like a giant Gordian knot of stress and nerves.

“ _The problem is you think you’re Atlas and that you’ve got to keep the whole world up on your shoulders_.”

The echo of Keith’s words make his lips twitch weakly. Shiro closes his eyes and tips his head back, murmuring, “I don’t even know how to _start_  apologizing for this.”

The pod hums away behind him. It’s low drone reminds Shiro of the old mini-fridge he and his roommates had chipped in to get. 

Raising his bound hands up, Shiro sweeps his white fringe over his forehead and holds it in place. Tugs a little until it just barely hurts and struggles not to give into the urge to bang his head against the crypopod as a dumbass way of punishing himself.

Instead he holds onto the longest tuft of his hair and tries not to give into his despair.

–

It’s been four days.

Four painfully long days where Shiro’s mulled over one bleak scenario too many instead of getting actual rest. 

He’s out of the cuffs now, with Hunk firmly insisting that there was no need for them anymore. Shiro feels exposed without the restraints. Part of his fear had remained constrained thanks to the cuffs but once they’d been taking off…

Fingers clutching his right wrist tighter, Shiro mutters, “Should have asked Pidge or Lance to cuff me.”

At least they would have pandered to his paranoia instead of giving into good sense.

It’s been four days since he’s kept vigil next to Keith’s pod and Shiro hasn’t gathered the courage up to turn around and actually _see_  Keith.

His shame and guilt prevents him from doing so.

The pod drones away in a low-hum that sets his nerves on edge.

Shiro looks up as the door slides open with a hiss. “Any change?” Coran asks, sweeping in with a plate of green goo in hand.

He shakes his head, and again at the plate being held out towards him. “I’m not hungry.”

“My boy, you haven’t eaten anything for days. Best to eat _something_. At least try.” 

Coran’s kind tone is the only reason Shiro sighs and accepts the plate, even though he knows he won’t be able to get more than two spoonfuls of the goo down his throat. And that’s a generous estimate.

As it turns out, Shiro can barely swallow the one bite before hes shoving the plate away.

“Are you mad at me?” Shiro asks Keith before tipping his head back with a sigh. “Of course you are. You have to be.” 

Keith doesn’t answer.

–

The sharp hiss of the cryopod opening jerks Shiro out of his sleep. It takes him a couple of seconds to process the sound before he’s scrambling to his feet.

And then, for the first time in six days, Shiro finally looks at Keith.

He looks paler than usual, probably due to the fact that he was wearing the white bodysuit (but more likely because he’d lost a lot of blood). A little groggy too if the way he’s leaning against the pod wall says anything.

His hand reaches out to touch Keith, help him out of the pod, but it freezes mid-way. 

Keith finally looks up, blinking harshly before squinting a little at him. “Shiro?”

“Yeah,” he rasps in answer. “It’s me. How do you feel?”

“Like shit. What the hell happened? Why am I-”

The shorter man freezes, eyes flying open as his hands press against his stomach. His shocked gaze moves up to meet Shiro’s shameful one, whose eyes slide down to the floor.

He’s going to… throw up, pass out, melt into the ground in shame because there’s _nothing_ Shiro can say that can even _begin_ to make up for what he did.

“Are you… _you_? Did you get your memories back?”

Shiro nods miserably at the floor and hopes Keith won’t ask him what the trigger was.

He jumps when cool fingertips press against his cheek. Shiro stares down at Keith’s frown, “Have you been waiting for me to wake up the whole time?”

Shiro nods again, slower this time around.

“How many days?”

“Five.”

Keith starts asking something but Shiro takes a step back. And another, and another. “I’ll go get Coran.”

He’s not proud of it but he runs away.

–

It’s not that he’s _avoiding_ Keith as much as just… avoiding the inevitable shit show of a conversation he needs to have with Keith eventually.

Still. It’s something he’d like to avoid for as long as possible.

Shiro rests his head against Black’s leg and thinks, ‘ _Never thought I’d be such a coward_.’

But he also never thought he’d hurt Keith the way he did either.

“Should have known this is where you’ve been hiding.” Freezing, Shiro turns to look at Keith standing there with an amused smile on his lips. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” 

He’s contemplating getting up and _running_  away when Keith’s stepping forward and sitting down next to him.

“You can’t keep avoiding me you know.”

‘ _I can fucking try.’_

The silence stretches between them. Shiro thinks he’d be able to hear the brush of a butterflies wing against thin air, it’s that quiet. And it’s broken when Keith sighs, “It wasn’t your fault.”

There’s no stopping the look he shoots Keith because, “Of course it is. It was _my_  hand that did it! I was the one who took advantage of how you felt for me and…”

Shiro chokes on the words, unable to complete the sentence because it feels like he’s tainted them and their relationship. Ruined it so bad there’s no salvaging it.

He covers his face with his hands, fingertips digging into his skull. Keith’s warmer hands press against his hands, “It wasn’t you.” He repeats firmly. Before Shiro understands what’s happening, Keith’s straddling his lap and holding his face so that Shiro’s forced to look up at Keith. “It. wasn’t. you.”

Shiro opens his mouth to argue but Keith cuts him off with a hard kiss. Too hard because Shiro tastes blood welling on one of their lips. 

“Keith…” 

He’s ashamed of how broken he sounds but Keith accepts it. Accepts him and his broken jagged pieces with open arms, no matter how those sharp corners will make him bleed. Picks up his Galra hand, kisses the knuckles, and tells Shiro, “I know you’ve been thinking I’m mad at you and that I won’t ever forgive you but I do. Forgive you. I forgave you ages ago.”

A sob cracks the cold shell of terror that’s frozen over his chest. Shiro drops his head on Keith’s shoulder and holds him tight. Hot tears spill over his eyes and soak into Keith’s dark t-shirt. And the whole time, Keith holds him closer and whispers sweet nothings while reassuring him, “We’ll get through this. Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.”


End file.
